


rocks in the ocean

by skuls



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Episode: s05e07 Emily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 13:03:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18550324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuls/pseuds/skuls
Summary: Prompt: what if emily took to mulder more than she did scully??? would scully get jealous and would it create some msr tension??? or not??





	rocks in the ocean

**1.**  It’s rough going at first, of course. Of course it is. Scully doesn’t expect everything to be perfect right away, not with everything that Emily has been through. But she tries her best to make things familiar, make herself familiar. While the courts examine her petition, she stays in California, making visits to Emily first in the hospital and then in the children’s home. (She flies back home once, after a reappearance by Modell that no one bothers to tell her about that leaves Mulder nearly hysterical after he sees a vision of her death. Skinner calls her and she flies home for all of one day, hugging him tight on his apartment floor. The next day, they both end up back in San Diego after Skinner recommends that he take some time off.) Over the next month, she goes to visit Emily every day, coloring with her on the floor, reading her sticky-paged picture books that she selects from the shelf. Mulder comes too, sometimes, and he’s typically as shy and quiet as Emily, but he can usually make Emily laugh. It gets to the point where she offers her own shy smile around the thumb inserted in her mouth when she sees Scully coming. It always makes Scully’s heart swell.

When the adoption petition is finally approved, she ends up bursting into tears in the courtroom and wiping her eyes on the sleeves of her jacket in the hall. Mulder, waiting outside on a bench, passes her tissues and wraps an arm gingerly around her shoulder.

But when she tells Emily that she’s going to be coming home with her, Emily’s face falls. She whispers, “Is my mommy coming back?” And Scully’s heart breaks, just a little.

_It’s perfectly normal,_  she tells herself as she tries to explain things to Emily, as she wipes Emily’s tears away.  _These things take time. These things take time._ Emily doesn’t see her as a mother yet; she barely even knows her. But she doesn’t scoot away when Scully leans in to hug her; she grips her coat with one small, determined hand, wipes her face on Scully’s blouse. Scully tells herself there’s hope.

**2.**  Emily is quiet and distant at some times, but clingy at others. When they leave California, she looks at Scully like she is a lone rock in a vast ocean; she leans into her side and holds onto her hand like it’s a life preserver, hiding her face when strangers speak to either of them. Her eyes grow wide when Scully leaves a room, much less the house, and though she never protests, it’s clear she doesn’t want her to leave. She wakes up crying sometimes, and Scully, sleeping lightly, will often hear her and wake up and go lie down beside her, stroking her hair and whispering to her gently or singing tunelessly until she falls back asleep. Other times, she doesn’t hear and wakes up to find Emily climbing into her bed. All the advice she’s heard is says to put the child back into their own bed after they’ve calmed down, but Scully finds she can’t. She lets Emily fall asleep curled up on the other pillow, her head resting sweetly on her hand, and she finds they both sleep better that way. (She still fears the possibility that someone will come for Emily again.)

Emily asks about her parents sometimes still, although it lessens as time goes on. She brings them up often— _Mommy never let me watch that_  or  _Daddy liked that book_ or  _Mommy never made me eat that._ It makes Scully feel insecure, sometimes, but she never says a word. She asks questions about the Sims, and listens to everything Emily says. She brings out the pictures and toys and other various things they brought from the Sims’ house, and Emily’s face almost always lights up. She tries, and she thinks she’s mostly succeeding, but she can’t shake the selfish feeling that she is living in the Sims’ shadow. She tries not to think about it. She loves her daughter so much, and she wants her to be comfortable, and she can’t imagine going through what Emily has gone through, so she tries as hard as she can. It is worth it, for every time Emily smiles at her, or hugs her, or clings to her hand with they leave the house, hiding her face in her side when they talk to strangers.

Interestingly enough, Emily seems to have the same attachment to Mulder, to some degree. Scully thinks it may be due to the frequency of Mulder’s visits to the children’s home, or a spark of familiarity where she is surrounded by strangers in a strange town. Or maybe due to Mulder’s utter goofiness, the ability he has to make them both laugh by making funny faces or telling them long, elaborate stories or coloring ridiculous pictures with Emily on the floor. He starts coming over more frequently, having dinner with them, watching cartoons on the floor with Emily. Watching them together makes Scully smile almost absently. Like the two of them together is something she hasn’t quite acknowledged she wants.

Slowly, slowly, it gets easier.

**3.**  As six months pass, Emily starts to become more comfortable with her surroundings. She still has crying jags and nightmares sometimes, and she still comments on her parents, but Scully can tell that she’s beginning to adjust. She starts enjoying daycare instead of outright hating it. She starts being able to tolerate Scully leaving—she’ll stay with Mulder or her mom, and she’ll usually ask Scully when she’ll be back in a solemn voice, but she doesn’t cling to her side and silently beg her not to go. She sleeps through the night most of the time, she begins to talk more—and frequently, in a way that reminds Scully of Missy and makes her misty-eyed—and begins to tell Scully, in no uncertain terms, what she does and doesn’t want. She calls her  _Dana_ instead of  _Mommy_ and Scully tries not to dwell too hard on it. She tells herself that it doesn’t matter if her daughter ever calls her Dana. She is here, and that’s all that matters: that Scully have protect and love and raise her daughter.

Mulder is over frequently, too, partially by his and Scully’s own prerogative—her position on the X-Files has shifted a bit, in that she doesn’t travel but will often consult via phone when he does (and he doesn’t travel much either, anymore), and she’s largely relegated to autopsies, both for him and occasionally for other parts of the Bureau, but she’ll work a case with him if it’s nearby; but they frequently end days at the office with one or the other offering:  _I’ll make you dinner. I have a new movie for Em. We want to finish that Candy Land game; I think Emily is going to kick your ass._  But partially, it is because of Emily. She asks frequently, “Can Mulder come over tonight?” And since Scully typically has no arguments with that herself, she will frequently pass on the message.

Emily never questions the role of Mulder in their lives. Scully wonders if she would in a different situation—if she thought of Scully as a mother, or if she were a little older and a little more knowledgeable about romance (she and Mulder are just friends, of course, but Emily never asks if they’re anything more). But she never does. Mulder seems to be as much a part of her orbit as Scully is, part of her daily routine. She gets excited when Mulder comes over, her eyes lighting up when she hears him knock on the door. She talks about things she wants to tell him or show him, draws pictures for him at daycare, asks him to come play with her or watch TV with her; Mulder and Scully don’t get a moment to themselves until after Emily’s gone to bed. It’s something that Scully thinks she’s unconsciously wanted—for the two of them, for the  _three_ of them to be close—ever since Mulder sat down on the floor beside them that first day and made a face to make Emily laugh. She wants this. And she’s utterly ashamed when it starts to bother her, the way that Emily anticipates Mulder’s presence—the way she almost seems to  _prefer_ him.

It’s to be expected, she tells herself. Mulder is fun in a way that she can’t be; she’s the parental figure, she has to hand out discipline and punishments and make Emily eat her vegetables. It should be inevitable, she should’ve expected it. But some dark emotion like jealousy keeps rising up in her throat at the whole thing. She doesn’t understand  _why_ , except sometimes she wishes it could be both of them doing these things, instead of feeling like she’s on the outside looking in. Or that maybe, sometimes, she could be her daughter’s first choice. That she could be the fun one.

It’s an emotion that somewhat disgusts her and she tries her hardest to tamp it down; she doesn’t want to lose either of them, doesn’t want to drive Mulder away or make him feel unwelcome. She tells herself that she should be grateful he didn’t stop wanting to spend time with her, grateful that  _something_ makes her daughter happy. And she tells herself it’ll be fine, it’ll be just fine, over and over again until the night when she offers to put Emily to bed and read her a story, on the tail end of a movie night with Mulder. And Emily, clutching her blanket in her hands with her eyes fixed on the screen, says, “I want Mulder to do it.”

**4.** Scully, who has read to Emily every night since she brought her home, pretends that this doesn’t hurt immensely. She forces a smile, a wobbly smile, and says, “Okay, sweetie. If… if Mulder is okay with that.”

Emily, still clutching her blanket and the bear that Mulder bought her in the hospital, doesn’t notice a thing. But there must be a tremor or something in Scully’s voice, because Mulder looks right at her. She looks away immediately, mentally chiding herself, and says, “I’ll go get the book. Do you want  _Where The Wild Things Are_?”

“Uh-huh,” Emily says absently.

Scully turns towards the hall and walks away, to Emily’s room down the hall. She picks the book off the shelf, an old, tattered copy that had belonged to her and her siblings. She holds it in one hand and digs her fingernails into her other palm, bites back tears. Tell herself,  _You are being ridiculous. You are being incredibly selfish._ Bites her lip hard and blinks. And then she hears footsteps behind her. Feels a heavy, gentle hand on her shoulder. Hears Mulder’s soft voice: “Scully?”

She bites down on her lip too hard, forces a smile and turns to him and offers the book.

He doesn’t take it. He reaches out and covers her hand with his, and says in a strained voice, “Scully, I don’t want to impose…”

“You’re not  _imposing_ ,” she says determinedly, and it’s the truth. But still. She sniffles, unable to stop herself.

He shakes his head. “Scully, this is your life, and your daughter, and I… I am so incredibly honored you’ve let me be a part of it, but I… I told myself that I wasn’t going to make it about me. And I don’t want to…”

“Mulder, it’s not you,” she blurts, simultaneously embarrassed and disgusted with herself. “You are not imposing. We want you here. It’s just…” She trails off, looking down at her shoes. The words stuck in her throat. The book feels too stiff in her hand.

Mulder steps closer, his feet creaking on the floorboards. He puts a hand on her shoulder. “Just what, Scully?” he asks softly.

She shuts her eyes. It’s silly and selfish and she doesn’t want to say it, but she speaks anyway, quietly. “I don’t know how to be with her,” she whispers. “I’m not as good with her as you are, and I’m not sure… how to be better.”

He doesn’t say anything. She keeps her eyes shut, her face turning red; she regrets having told him. She’s horribly embarrassed.

Behind them, she hears more feet on the floorboards. “Mulder?” Emily asks. “Dana?”

Scully steps away from Mulder, swiping quickly under her eyes and smiling broadly at her daughter. She loves her so much. She’s not sure she’ll ever really know how to do this, but she loves her so much. “Hi, honey,” she says in as cheerful a voice as she can muster. “Mulder was just helping me find the book.”

“Oh. Okay.” Emily hugs her bear, looking between them questioningly. “You gonna read, Mulder?”

Mulder clears his throat once. Twice. Scully won’t look at him, so she has no idea what he’s thinking. But she seems to falter a bit at what he says next. He says, “I’m sorry, Em, but I’ve got a sore throat. I don’t think I can read tonight.”

Scully blinks. “Oh,” Emily says, her lip jutting out in a pout.

“But…” Mulder adds, enticingly, and she finally looks at him. He gives her a soft, reassuring look before turning back to Emily. “I’ve heard Dana’s a great reader,” he says. “Right?” Emily nods. “So what if…” he continues, “Dana reads to us tonight and I read another night?”

For a second, Scully is nervous all over again. But Emily simply shrugs. “Okay,” she says, and walks over to the bed. She climbs into bed and slides over to the wall in their typical routine before looking over at them expectantly.

Relieved (and still a bit embarrassed), Scully goes and slides in beside her, an arm draped over her daughter’s slim shoulders. Emily motions expectantly, and Mulder comes and sits on the end of the bed, his back against the wall, Scully’s toes against his thigh. “ _Where The Wild Things Are_ , huh?” he says. “So this book must be all about you.” He points to Emily.

Emily giggles, snuggling into the pillows. Scully feels an immense wave of gratefulness wash over her; she wants to thank him, but doesn’t want to do it with Emily there. So she simply shoots him a grateful look, her eyes growing damp. He smiles broadly at her before nodding encouragingly at the book.

Scully reads, the same book they’ve read a hundred times before. When Emily falls asleep, her head on Scully’s arm, she halfway thinks she’d never like to move. She slides out from under her and kisses her good night on her forehead before exiting the room softly behind Mulder.

Outside her room, Mulder puts a gentle hand in hers. “These things take time, Scully,” he tells her, the same thing she’s been telling herself, “but things are gonna get easier. I know it.” He squeezes her hand. “You’re an amazing mother.”

Tears well up, to the point where she almost thinks she’s going to cry again. She hugs Mulder instead, suddenly and tightly, gratefully. And he hugs her back. His hold is reassuringly strong and she tells herself once again that it doesn’t matter, and that Mulder is right. Things are going to get easier. She hopes, she prays they will get easier. She wraps her arms tighter around Mulder’s ribs.

**5.**  But Mulder’s reassurance doesn’t quite feel real until a night nearly two months later. She’s dead asleep, exhausted from a late night of paperwork, when the sound of Emily’s sobs cut through the haze. It takes her a few minutes to fully comprehend what is happening, but once she does, she’s stumbling to her feet, tangled up in blankets and in a panic. When she reaches her door, she can hear the sound of Mulder, who has taken up residence on the couch, soothing Emily. “Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay. What happened?”

“I had a nightmare,” Emily mumbles, sniffling and hiccuping. Scully pulls her bedroom door open; from her angle, she can just see Mulder on the couch, comforting her daughter. “I want  _Mommy_ ,” she sobs, rubbing at her eyes.

This isn’t an uncommon sentiment, of course, but Scully can practically hear Mulder’s hesitance from here. “I know,” he says finally, rubbing her back. “I know you miss your mom…” Scully, sympathy coursing through her, begins to move towards the living room, ready to comfort her daughter and soothe her back to sleep.

But Emily shakes her head. “No,” she says, her voice stubborn and so much like Melissa’s it hurts. Scully steps into the living room, and Emily turns to her and gasps, “Mommy!” before launching herself at Scully, wrapping her arms around Scully’s legs and pressing her wet face into her thighs. “Mommy,” she mumbles, her voice full of tears. “Had a bad dream.”

For a few seconds, Scully is frozen, unsure of what to do. Mulder’s eyes are wide with surprise, but encouraging. And that seems to push her into activeness, into movement. She bends down and hugs her daughter tight, stroking her fine hair and whispering soothing words. She scoops her up and holds her close, sitting on the couch so that she can rock her back and forth. Emily clings to her like a briar, her limbs tight around her torso, her face buried in her shoulder. She comforts her daughter on the rumpled couch, Mulder at their side, until Emily falls asleep curled up in her arms. Scully kisses her temple, presses her nose to her head and breathes in the scent of her No More Tears shampoo. She feels close to tears herself.

Mulder covers the two of them with a blanket, leans in to drop a kiss on Scully’s forehead. “I told you, Scully,” he whispers. “You’re an amazing mother.”

She laughs, half-leaning into him as she adjusts her daughter in her arms. It’s silly, she thinks, but sitting here now, on the couch with her partner and her daughter, this is the first time she’s really felt like one.


End file.
